Eclipsed: Poland's Secret Jews

I was raised in Warsaw as a Catholic Pole. Today I have embraced my Jewish identity.

Tusia Dabrowska grew up in Warsaw unaware that she was Jewish, a fact she suspected and then confirmed in her teens. For the past 15 years she splits her time between Wasrsaw and Brooklyn.

My grandmother, an agile woman in her mid-sixties, leaned over a pale, pink-tiled bathtub and reached behind the washing machine next to it. We were in the basement of her house. She was too small and had to climb up the bathtub ledge. Crouching, she finally reached a plastic bag. It was a dry and warm Polish summer in 1995. My grandmother was back on the floor, protectively holding the tightly wrapped package, a set of pictures of her family. The washing machine had long ago stopped working; it was a kind of treasure chest, hiding the memories of family that was unmentionable. My grandmother always believed that it was better our family history died with her.

There was something unnamed, yet shameful about us. Kids said my family was ugly, polite adults said I looked Spanish, less polite adults said many other things. I grew up in Warsaw, away from the small town my mother escaped as soon as she could, and the street my grandmother lived on her whole life, including the years she spent hiding in another basement. That was the street to which my grandmother, like her mother, belonged. She belonged to this street when it was the heart of the Jewish District. She had belonged to it the 50 years when we were the last Jews there. Even before the war ended, while still in hiding, my grandmother was christened. For the rest of her life, she strived to find her home, to belong, to pass.

This obsessive need to fit in shaped my grandmother’s choices, and it echoed in my mother’s life.

This obsessive need to fit in shaped my grandmother’s choices, and it echoed in my mother’s life. I grew up knowing that the most difficult aspect of fitting in is the threat that at any moment we might be discovered. The erasure of the Jewish life in our part of the world was, mildly put, a discombobulating experience for those who survived. But in Poland, it was compounded by the almost complete demolition of virtually all social structures. Moreover, communism had no interest in rebuilding social bonds based in democratic practices. This meant that growing up 40 years after the war, I was still vulnerable to opinions about who I was offered voluminously to me by cab drivers, lonely drunks, old women who needed a reason to cut me in the line at the store, and a neighbor who thought I played music too loud. I was not only susceptible to their opinions; I had no other point of reference.

Tusia's Grandmother

My grandmother was a Catholic who dyed her hair Henna-red and who destroyed her family pictures. The same pictures she had shared with me only once. On her deathbed in 2006, for the first time since the War, she told my mother, in utter confidentiality, that we were Jewish. My mother learned she was Jewish some 35 years before when her classmate told her he couldn’t date her. But had he not told her, there were other clear giveaways. Like the fact that my grandmother kept pictures in the washing machine. And that challah bread was most delicious on Fridays. Or that Paul Newman was the only light-haired actor that my grandmother thought handsome.

Against her deepest fears, my grandmother passed on to us a wealth of culture, albeit an amalgam of Polish and Jewish traditions. And it was the strength of that world which guided my mother in Warsaw. She moved there in the late 1970s, approximately a decade after the last round of expulsions of Jews from Poland. But in comparison to what my mother had grown up with, the capitol brimmed with Jewish life.

The socio-cultural association of Jews in Poland, formal and not, sought to make sense of the remnants of Jewish life. When I was growing up, virtually everyone my mother was friends with was Jewish. It was an unnamed network of people who kept their life stories for late night whispery conversations. They were few in numbers and had a very narrow, if any, connection to a positive sense of their ethnic, cultural, or religious identity. But out of the sense of an unspoken bond, they also supported each other, including women like my mother, a single mother from rural Poland with a sickly child, a prematurely born daughter with kidney problems.

This sense of loss is a common sentiment among young people, Jewish or not, in Poland.

I’ve come to realize that the hardest part of overcoming the illness that marked our identity is not the cherishing of traditions that were passed on to me. It is reaching the place where I can begin to outline what was taken away from me. This sense of loss is a common sentiment among young people, Jewish or not, in Poland. However, to me,the Jewish festivals that fetishize the shtetl past are as alienating as Chabad Centers popping up in Poland. At a time when most young people, for better or worse, pick and chose their identities to then stretch them beyond accepted boundaries, being Jewish in Poland often feels as if you’re perpetually perched on the set of Fiddler on the Roof.

Tusia's great grandmother

Like many other Warsaw Jews, I felt insatiated. Ostensibly preparing to write a novel, I spent a year researching everyday practices of Jewish women in pre-World War II Varshe. At YIVO’s photo archives I looked for pictures of I.L. Peretz to see the apartment in which his wife and companion in social activism lived. In the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum online photo archives, I studied women’s fashion. While reading a variety of blogs devoted to old Warsaw I hunted for trivia. I learned about idea markets where Jewish political agitators encouraged other Jews to join their party. I read about the notorious Adria restaurant and nightclub, which was run by the composer Henryk Gold and was considered one of the centers of cultural—Jewish and Polish, life. I discovered Jewish feminist activists, bilingual radicals, and tri-lingual writers—hoydenish dreamers who populated the streets of my birth city 50 years before me. I found my home.

After the war, Warsaw was, at least architecturally, rebuilt. The past – diverse and riddled with ethnic and cultural tensions, yet rich and co-habitable – was gone. The very few remnants of the past that survived had their function changed as if to hide their original purpose and inhabitants. From the Warsaw that survived, more – like a wood synagogue near my mother's apartment – were demolished by the early 1970s. It was assumed that Jewish architecture had no purpose or use in the country.

Allowing the voices of erased histories to echo through me helps my own voice to reveal joy in being Jewish.

And as communism covered the country first with majestic limestone edifices and then cheap concrete, it seemed that the once vibrant Jewish life has become a geological fact. My own apartment in Warsaw, built right after the war, is partially constructed from repurposed rubbles. Ghosts of that other Warsaw live in the walls of my home, and they give me the strength and pride to be Jewish in Poland now.

For a Polish Jew, creating the present has to be rooted in learning to draw on the past, beyond grief and fear. Allowing the voices of erased histories to echo in and through me helps my own voice to reveal joy in being Jewish, without feeling guilt or discomfort. My experience of discovering my family's history, redefining my belonging and my role in my community is a process that mirrors that of Poland's shift into a free country. Perhaps this is the plight of being a Jew in Poland today--never quite feeling grounded in your place in history.

Tusia is one of a number of younger Polish Jews featured in Adam Zucker’s documentary film-in-progress, The Return. The film explores being Jewish in Poland today by following four young women who were raised Catholic only to discover they were Jewish in their teens. Each struggles to create a living Jewish identity in a virtual vacuum—within the country that was once the epicenter of the Jewish world. Zucker has been travelling to Poland for the past four years to capture the story. Click here for more information, or to get involved.

Visitor Comments: 40

It am surprises me that in the article Israel is not mentioned. Not sought as a refuge but instead a choice to remain in a dark corner of the world.

Our mission is to be a light unto the nations!

The map is the Torah. Our identity thoroughly connected to our land, the Land of Israel

(22)
William,
November 1, 2013 9:48 PM

I, too, grew up in Poland. My parents did not keep a Jewish home, but I knew that we were Jewish, by the company we kept, ie. the Jewish Social Club. And yet, there were never any discussions about Judaism in our home. My parents were too secretive about their Jewish past. Although, at times, some snippets did come out. And those were lovely to hear. Pity, it took so long. What I did find out, was in my adult life. To think of how much we missed out on as children.

(21)
Elisheva,
October 16, 2013 4:39 PM

My people lived that too

Spanish Jews suffers greatly thru history. We've had to hide so much. We r so misunderstood in many situations in non Jewish settings. What is most painful is going to congregation and having your own people questioning your being Jewish. That has often kept me from congregating. It is hard to not be accepted by ashkenaz if one is Sephardi.

(20)
Shlomo Taub,
May 27, 2013 6:19 AM

Tusia Dabrowska Story

Just like Tusia, there are many Thousands Jewish souls wandering in Poland, and especially in Poland.My advise to those lost souls is - get out of the closet. Today it is safe to be a Jew and more than that - a proud Jew, regardless age. By not revieling your origins, you may find yourself after 120, burried at a Catholic semitary just like I found in Karzimiesz Dolny. There is a huge Catholic cemitary - were many Jews are burried. When I asked the locals "how come"? so I was told that these people were born Jews, lived as Catholics, and died as Catholics. They just never had the guts to tell who they realy were.Good luck to all.S. T.

(19)
Louise,
May 4, 2013 5:53 AM

The Lord knows ...

Tusia, Thank you for sharing. The secret that we are Jewish was well kept by my mother-until my daughter asked her grandmother's name. It is her name, Hephzibah, that set us free. There are so many Jews amongst us on this earth, that have not yet discovered who they truly are. I do believe that there is a stirring - a drawing - within each one: something that my children, grandchildren and myself had for years.

Tusia,
May 6, 2013 4:37 PM

discoveries or returns?

Thank you for sharing. Hearing about other people's discovery of who they are, often makes me wonder if they too felt it to be a return of a kind. Tusia

(18)
Michael Sharp,
May 2, 2013 8:42 PM

Dabrowska and similar names

To quote my Galizianer cousin who left Poland in 1969:

I remember, as a child, asking my grandmother Dobrowolska many questions about her background, the war years, the prewar years and her husband, the grandfather I never knew. I have a very fragmented memory of her answers. I wish I listened more closely, and I wish I took notes at that time.As I research my ancestors now, bits of information I once knew come back to me: the brief answers that my grandmother gave to my questions, the stories told us by my late father when, on rare occasions, he would share the family secrets and his memories of his father. Some ofthis account is drawn from eavesdropped conversations about the “war time”.Babcia told me that my grandfather’s name was “Marek Dobrowolski” and that he died during the war. As it turns out now, forty odd years later, his name was not “Dobrowolski”. Neither was it hers. “Dobrowolski” means “in good will” in Polish and anybody whose last name is “Dobrowolski” is more than likely to be a Neophyte, a Christian convert, according to the old Jewish genealogical sources.That my father, my brother and I, were of Jewish origin I found out only days before we left Poland in 1969. I was 18 at that time and, as an adult, had to personally surrender my Polish citizenship. I remember my parents calling a “family conference”, the first ever and informing my 14 year old brother, Adam, and myself, in conspiratorial, hushed tones that “Tatus is of Jewish origin”. I remember my parents’ faces, both solemn; my mother the spokesperson on this occasion, and my father looking serious and uncharacteristically meek.

Tusia,
May 3, 2013 3:01 PM

similarities

Michael, my mother is your brother's age, and I've often imagined how different her life would have been had her family left. I can't imagine the trauma of expulsion from the country, and I appreciate a lot that you've shared your story here. I am very moved.

(17)
Zelda,
May 2, 2013 3:53 AM

Thank you Tusia

Tusia, my father came from Warsaw and My Mom from a samller nearby town called Shedlitz. My mom told me that her mom ( my grandmother) owned a goat, much like the one pictured with your grandmother, I suppose. She explained how one of her sister's was allergic to cow's milk so she bought the goat for her. I never saw a picture of my grandmother, but she would have been your great grandmother's age. The story goes, re the goat, that one day it wandered off from their farm ( to mate, most likely) and started eating from the grass of the bank's property, which waqs illegal. As my grandmother did not realize it had escaped, she could not stop and prevent it. Well, when the goat was traced to her, she was aressted for having the goat trespass, and spent one night in jail. But anyway, she was a loving mother who cared about her daughter's needs is what I think about when I recall the story. So, Tusia, who knows, maybe we are related? Do you wish to share any other identifying information? I have no pictures of anyone other than my parents. That is a most beautiful picture you have of your great granmother. I am so glad you shared this heartwarming story of your new awareness of your Jewish heritage. Stay strong and welcome back.

Anonymous,
May 2, 2013 2:51 PM

Goats

My great grandmother lived some 70 miles from Warsaw, so I doubt this is the same goat. However, since I was a baby, I've much disliked cow's milk, and if not for the accessibility of soymilk, I'd drink goat milk as well. So, I suppose it is possible we are related! Thanks for sharing. Tusia

Zelda,
May 19, 2013 7:49 PM

great grandmother not from Warsaw

Tusia,
I won't say it is the same goat as there must have been others, however my great grandmother was not fronm Warsaw. I belive my mom, may she rest in peace, came from Shedlitz, a small town. Perhaps there was a bank in Shedlitz or near there that this goat wandered to. Was your grandmother living in Warsaw with her goat? I know my grandparents owned a home which was confiscated from them, but I do not have an address.
Anyway, it is a nice picture to have, and I wish I had pictures of my grandparents..

(16)
Anonymous,
May 2, 2013 3:34 AM

I thought I was the only one

I was raised Catholic, with 2 parents who were born Jewish (but were in hiding from the Shoah). I thought I was the only one for many years, and that no one would believe my story, if I ever dared to tell it. Lately, I've heard many stories, and I know I'm not alone.

I "converted to what I am" several years ago, to set the record straight for my children, and to protect the members of my family, who have not chosen to reveal the family secret to their children.

Anonymous,
May 2, 2013 2:46 PM

There are many

I believe my mother was guided by the same need to "set the record straight." So, am I.

(15)
Eva Yelloz,
May 1, 2013 11:13 PM

Anoher "lost" Jew from Polish parents

I'm the first child of holocaust survivors born in a Displaced Persons Camp in Eschwege, Germany. My Jewish parents were both born and raised in Poland and each the sole survivor of their large families. I heard about Poland, Warsaw - my mother's birthplace, and Kolo, my father's, from age three. I knew the Polish pine forests, their wild mushroom crop, the sweet edible berries intertwined in shrubs and bushes, that my mother picked and enjoyed with her siblings. I could close my eyes and see the main street - Wielka or even Mila Street.

Raised in New York, I always felt like the odd one, the "Greenhorn" - ad even in my adult years, iiving in a Los Angeles suburb since I'm 36, I still feel like an outsider. I spoke German first, then in America, it became Yddish, and then I learned my parents' secret tongue - Polish.

When people ask me what is my descent, I always say I am a "Poilishe" - a Polish Jewess. I have never been to Poland. I have never walked the streets of my mother's youth, I do not know where the ashes of Treblinka settled - my grandparents - my young uncles and aunts - none with children - only one had recently married before the war broke out.

I cannot imagine what it feels like for a Jew to be christened, and for future generations to be seeking their Jewish heritage - their roots. Yet, I feel that Poland is so much a part of who I am - what I am...sight unseen. I never felt that I belonged in America, yet I do feel comfort in Israel, where there are so many like me.

Still lost at 66....

Tusia,
May 2, 2013 2:43 PM

Dziękuję!

Thank you for sharing! I'm deeply moved by your post. I cannot imagine how difficult it must be to ways for these identities to not compete but complete one another. However, I do like Poilishe. I hope you don't mind, I will start using it, too. Unfortunately, most of your Mother's Warsaw is gone. Yet, this ghost geography is what makes Warsaw my city, and if you get a chance, you should visit. If physical trips are not an option--if you go to this website and scroll down to W, you can find many pictures of Wielka Street: http://www.warszawa1939.pl/index_arch_main.php?r1=strona_bez.php?kod=indeksy
Tusia

(14)
Dr.Z,
May 1, 2013 10:44 AM

There never were Polish Jews

My Mother was born in Varshe and told me that there never were Polish Jews....only Jews in Poland.

Andrew Stiller,
May 1, 2013 1:19 PM

So true

Yes, I used to hear that comment all the time growing up. We were not "one of them." We were the Jews.

(13)
anon,
May 1, 2013 10:33 AM

Thank you

Dear Tusia, thank you for sharing your moving story. I'm sure it will help many others in similar situations. By the way, are you familiar with Shavei Yisrael? It's an organisation that helps Jews around the world who wish to return to their roots. (http://www.shavei.org/). You may wish to share your story with them.

All best wishes to you.

Anonymous,
May 2, 2013 2:30 AM

Shavei Yisrael

Thank you. And I'm ashamed to admit, but I didn't know this organization. Thanks for sharing!

(12)
SYLVIA,
May 1, 2013 6:39 AM

my family was from soviet union minsk to be exact . my family tried to "melt" into society

i am rather old now. its not really possible for me to go to Israel. but.. it IS our homeland. if you can. you should go and live there. its where we all belong.

Anonymous,
May 2, 2013 2:29 AM

Minsk

Few years ago, I've visited Minsk and the Jewish Community there. Many of their struggles reminded me of life in Poland of my childhood. The trip was very important to me on many levels, but among other, it made me understand my mother better.

(11)
Jong,
May 1, 2013 2:42 AM

Warsaw is a vibrant, interesting and unassuming city with rich Jewish culture. 1. Many of Issac Singer’s entertaining novels (for example, Magician of Lublin) were written based on Warsaw. Every year in late summer, there is a week of Jewish festival called “Singer’s Warsaw”. You must come to Prozna Street in the center of Warsaw and see this awesome and crowded festival with wonderful artists from all over the world. 2. The Jewish State Theater (http://www.teatr-zydowski.art.pl/teatr/) is a place you should NEVER miss in Warsaw. Here you can enjoy a variety of musicals in Yiddish. “Tenement on Nalewki street” is my favorite program. The level of performance is a world class. Great acting, song, and most of all dancing. You will be amazed. 3. Museum of the History of Polish Jews (http://www.jewishmuseum.org.pl/en/cms/home-page/) was recently open to public. This is considered as one of the 3 best Jewish museums in the world with focus on Jewish culture in Poland. I have not been there yet, but the first thing I will do when I am back to Warsaw is visiting this heart warming museum built right in the former Jewish Ghetto with donations from government and numerous private donors of the world. Warsaw, for me, is a great city that should be treasured and frequently visited, especially among Jews.

Anonymous,
May 2, 2013 2:20 AM

Warsaw

It is a very post-modern city in the sense that you see there many histories deconstructed, reconstructed, and created from scratch, all forming an intriguing (if not necessarily beautiful) maze that holds many treasures, like the institutions you've mentioned. Moreover, the partially opened Museum will be an important addition to the city's cultural landscape. Finally, I'd also suggest checking out The Jewish Historical Institute (http://www.jhi.pl/en), and those who know Warsaw, may enjoy this website that offers pictures of pre-WWII Warsaw: http://www.warszawa1939.pl/index_arch_main.php?r1=strona_bez.php?kod=indeksy

(10)
Rachel,
April 30, 2013 10:08 PM

A beautiful, thought-provoking piece

I really appreciated the nuanced writing. Often religious websites post stories that are "either/or". Yet human beings are complex and will have positive experiences in strange surroundings, as well as strange experiences in the bosom of their family (such as grandmother's hidden photos.) G-d bless you, Tusia, and guide you on your journey.

Tusia,
May 2, 2013 2:06 AM

Thank you.

This means a lot.

(9)
Lauren Adilev Cohen,
April 30, 2013 8:18 PM

Come Home!

Leave Poland Now! Come home to Israel, study and b"eh raise a family here. Contact me;you are invited for Shabbat and I'll help you. Leave Poland in the dust!

Tusia,
May 1, 2013 12:00 AM

Home

Thank you. I appreciate your kindness and care.

(8)
Robert,
April 30, 2013 6:17 PM

seemingly undestructible antisemitism.

Many non-jewish Poles fought very hard against the nazi's. But sometimes I wonder, who did they consider as beIng their worst enemy? The nazi's or the Jews? To me, antisemitism will always be a big question-mark.

(7)
Dolores,
April 30, 2013 4:58 PM

Me Too!

I'm also a newly discovered Jew. Raised in America. I'm of Polish descent, raised Catholic by a mother who also hid her identity. But my mother's past is still a mystery. My discovery was similar but still so many gaps. Still looking for answers. This story touched my heart. I've embraced my heritage as well.

Anonymous,
April 30, 2013 10:32 PM

Thank you so much!

It's humbling and beautiful to share an experience (even as complex as this one) with others. Thank you.

(6)
JZK,
April 30, 2013 4:26 PM

A few historical insights to a well written piece

"But in Poland, it was compounded by the almost complete demolition of virtually all social structures." This illustrious award goes to Germany and the Soviet Union as well as the U.S. and Britain (for the betrayal of their allie at Tehran & Yalta meetings).

"She moved there in the late 1970s, approximately a decade after the last round of expulsions of Jews from Poland."

For clarity & historical accuracy, the sentence above should explain that is was a Soviet mandated expulsion of Jews from Communist occupied Poland.

Anonymous,
April 30, 2013 10:30 PM

Thank you!

I appreciate your feedback, and I agree that the phrasing could have been more clear. Thank you.

(5)
ruth housman,
April 30, 2013 4:15 PM

Poland

I read an article about ongoing vicious antisemitism in Poland. The fact people do not teach their children even now what Poles did argues for something very inground about these ideas that are about hate still circulating, a grave issue considering the numbers of dead. I often wonder with despair about humanity and the possibility of a new order.

Abigail Stone,
May 1, 2013 12:38 AM

I agree!

I feel the same way. My children learned about every major war on the planet in high school except the worst one...and what they were taught about it omitted the Jews almost entirely. It is shocking that not only do so many forget but too many do not know at all.

(4)
Henry Federman,
April 30, 2013 4:09 PM

How many Jews had the same problem.Hundreds or maybe thousands who were hidden by Christians and were baptized catholic, after the war the Church did not want to let them go. I was one of them but I was lucky that my parents survived the war and got me back. The Protestants people who hid me never tried to convert me,I guess I was one of the lucky one.

(3)
Amir,
April 30, 2013 3:31 PM

I Understand

I just returned from a short visit to Warsaw with my daughter where we celebrated her 11 birthday. My father's family were from Poland, a land that I vowed to have nothing to do with given that it was a graveyard for millions of Judeans. A spark was lit in me and I came to tears at the only remaining Orthodox shul in the city. I want to collect pieces, create new memories, understand what was lost of the Judean presence in Poland, as well as understand what currently exists. We Judeans have had so much taken from us. Let's not let what is left get lost

Tusia,
April 30, 2013 10:28 PM

Thank you for sharing!

Thank you for sharing your personal story. If you are interested in learning more about the Jewish presence in Poland, there are many wonderful online places. Some of them I mention in the article. You can also look for blogs that focus on histories of key cities, they usually have a lot of interesting info. Finally, the newly opened Museum of the Hist of the Polish Jews is also worth checking out.

(2)
Yochanan,
April 30, 2013 1:54 PM

History repeats itself

It seems that this return is happening more and more...You can see it with the Sephardi communities and all the people suddenly waking up to its heritage

(1)
Miriam,
April 29, 2013 3:51 PM

Wow. Powerful.

Your superior writing reminds me of that of Tzipora Heller. You might want to check out her books and videos on naaleh.com. You both write so well; it's a joy to read.

Tusia,
April 30, 2013 2:57 PM

Thank you.

Thank you for your kind words. I didn't know Tzipora Heller's work before, but I checked out her website last night, and she seems a very inspiring writer/thinker. Thanks.

I'm told that it's a mitzvah to become intoxicated on Purim. This puzzles me, because to my understanding, it is not considered a good thing to become intoxicated, period.

One of the characteristics of the at-risk youth is their use of drugs, including alcohol. In my experience, getting drunk doesn't reveal secrets. It makes people act stupid and irresponsible, doing things they would never do if they were sober. Also, I know a lot about the horrible health effects of abusing alcohol, because I work at a research center that focuses on addiction and substance abuse.

Also, I am an alcoholic, which means that if I drink, very bad things happen. I have not had a drink in 22 years, and I have no intention of starting now. Surely there must be instances where a person is excused from the obligation to drink. I don't see how Judaism could ever promote the idea of getting drunk. It just doesn't seem right.

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

Putting aside for a moment all the spiritual and philosophical reasons for getting drunk on Purim, this remains an issue of common sense. Of course, teenagers should be warned of the dangers of acute alcohol ingestion. Of course, nobody should drink and drive. Of course, nobody should become so drunk to the point of negligence in performing mitzvot. And of course, a recovering alcoholic should not partake of alcohol on Purim.

Indeed, the Code of Jewish Law explicitly says that if one suspects the drinking may affect him negatively, then he should NOT drink.

Getting drunk on Purim is actually one of the most difficult mitzvot to do correctly. A person should only drink if it will lead to positive spiritual results - e.g. under the loosening affect of the alcohol, greater awareness will surface of the love for God and Torah found deep in the heart. (Perhaps if we were on a higher spiritual level, we wouldn't need to get drunk!)

Yet the Talmud still speaks of an obligation on Purim of "not knowing the difference between Blessed is Mordechai and Cursed is Haman." How then should a person who doesn't drink get the point of “not knowing”? Simple - just go to sleep! (Rama - OC 695:2)

All this applies to individuals. But the question remains - does drinking on Purim adversely affect the collective social health of the Jewish community?

The aversion to alcoholism is engrained into Jewish consciousness from a number of Biblical and Talmudic sources. There are the rebuking words of prophets - Isaiah 28:1, Hosea 3:1 with Rashi, and Amos 6:6, and the Zohar says that "The wicked stray after wine" (Midrash Ne'alam Parshat Vayera).

It is well known that the rate of alcoholism among Jews has historically been very low. Numerous medical, psychological and sociological studies have confirmed this. The connection between Judaism and sobriety is so evident, that the following conversation is reported by Lawrence Kelemen in "Permission to Receive":

When Dr. Mark Keller, editor of the Quarterly Journal of Studies on Alcohol, commented that "practically all Jews do drink, and yet all the world knows that Jews hardly ever become alcoholics," his colleague, Dr. Howard Haggard, director of Yale's Laboratory of Applied Physiology, jokingly proposed converting alcoholics to the Jewish religion in order to immerse them in a culture with healthy attitudes toward drinking!

Perhaps we could suggest that it is precisely because of the use of alcohol in traditional ceremonies (Kiddush, Bris, Purim, etc.), that Jews experience such low rates of alcoholism. This ceremonial usage may actually act like an inoculation - i.e. injecting a safe amount that keeps the disease away.

Of course, as we said earlier, all this needs to be monitored with good common sense. Yet in my personal experience - having been in the company of Torah scholars who were totally drunk on Purim - they acted with extreme gentleness and joy. Amid the Jewish songs and beautiful words of Torah, every year the event is, for me, very special.

Adar 12 marks the dedication of Herod's renovations on the second Holy Temple in Jerusalem in 11 BCE. Herod was king of Judea in the first century BCE who constructed grand projects like the fortresses at Masada and Herodium, the city of Caesarea, and fortifications around the old city of Jerusalem. The most ambitious of Herod's projects was the re-building of the Temple, which was in disrepair after standing over 300 years. Herod's renovations included a huge man-made platform that remains today the largest man-made platform in the world. It took 10,000 men 10 years just to build the retaining walls around the Temple Mount; the Western Wall that we know today is part of that retaining wall. The Temple itself was a phenomenal site, covered in gold and marble. As the Talmud says, "He who has not seen Herod's building, has never in his life seen a truly grand building."

Some people gauge the value of themselves by what they own. But in reality, the entire concept of ownership of possessions is based on an illusion. When you obtain a material object, it does not become part of you. Ownership is merely your right to use specific objects whenever you wish.

How unfortunate is the person who has an ambition to cleave to something impossible to cleave to! Such a person will not obtain what he desires and will experience suffering.

Fortunate is the person whose ambition it is to acquire personal growth that is independent of external factors. Such a person will lead a happy and rewarding life.

With exercising patience you could have saved yourself 400 zuzim (Berachos 20a).

This Talmudic proverb arose from a case where someone was fined 400 zuzim because he acted in undue haste and insulted some one.

I was once pulling into a parking lot. Since I was a bit late for an important appointment, I was terribly annoyed that the lead car in the procession was creeping at a snail's pace. The driver immediately in front of me was showing his impatience by sounding his horn. In my aggravation, I wanted to join him, but I saw no real purpose in adding to the cacophony.

When the lead driver finally pulled into a parking space, I saw a wheelchair symbol on his rear license plate. He was handicapped and was obviously in need of the nearest parking space. I felt bad that I had harbored such hostile feelings about him, but was gratified that I had not sounded my horn, because then I would really have felt guilty for my lack of consideration.

This incident has helped me to delay my reactions to other frustrating situations until I have more time to evaluate all the circumstances. My motives do not stem from lofty principles, but from my desire to avoid having to feel guilt and remorse for having been foolish or inconsiderate.

Today I shall...

try to withhold impulsive reaction, bearing in mind that a hasty act performed without full knowledge of all the circumstances may cause me much distress.

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